


A match made in Hell....or Heaven, depends how you look at it.

by aWeird1



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Body Worship, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Cock Worship, Dark Past, Fashion designer En Dwi Gast, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, How Do I Tag, Idiots in Love, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Marijuana, Odin's A+ Parenting, Oral Sex, Parent/Child Incest, Past Child Abuse, Praise Kink, Prince Loki (Marvel), Rockstar Loki, Same-Sex Marriage, Smut, Soft!Frostmaster, frostmaster, random headcanon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-19 16:45:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14877545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aWeird1/pseuds/aWeird1
Summary: One of my random headcanons turned into fanfiction:Loki Odinson is the adopted Prince of a small Scandinavian island named Asgard and the lead vocalist in his own rock band “Tricksta”. He has always been the laughing stock of his family, mistreated by his father and siblings, ignored as if though he was invisible.En Dwi Gast is a 65 year old billionaire, fashion designer and CEO of his own clothing company, that is known as Sakaar. He has always been a a flamboyant, eccentric and talented person, a true fashion genius, which helped him get to where he is now. Alas now, trapped by a creative block, he has emotionally hit rock bottom.Two troublemakers at heart who always seem to have fun, yet both have come to a point in their life where an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. When they meet at a run down, shitty motel in the middle of mojave desert, it is as if it was a match made in hell.....or heaven, depends on how you look at it.





	1. Lost

 

 

Staring at the bright pastel colors, dancing in that fiery sunset sky, with tired, glossy eyes, En Dwi Gast let out a heavy sigh. He was exhausted. Despite his sharp getup, the black kimono jacket with nothing but a golden medallion underneath, the perfectly fitted custom ripped jeans and the white, leather loafers with no sockc. Despite driving 300 km per hour in his glistening, azure car, the usually optimistic billionaire felt more miserable than ever before.

 _How..uh, would you feel if your one and only love, was about to leave you?_ For 50 years, designing clothes was the fashion genius's passion, his obsession and the air that he simply could never survive without. Now though, for the first time since he started his own company in early 70s, the tycoon suffered from a creative block.

Before, he prided him self on never running out of ideas. For decades he was fascinated by colors, different concepts, textures and shapes, he could look at almost anything and make a whole line inspired by it. Like a child before a christmas tree, his eyes would light up every time he saw something truly exquisite.

Yet out of every single thing that could catch his attention, he was most of all fascinated by people. Their personalities, their bodies, their style. Every collection reflected, mirrored, represented his past lovers. Alas now, it feels as if though he has seen it all, he has finally run empty. Perhaps it was due to his old age? Perhaps he was a blindingly bright star heading towards it's own supernova explosion.

His eyes switched to the diamond encrusted, golden watch resting heavily upon his left wrist, it was 22:30 and yet he could still see the sun slowly sinking behind the horizon. It truly was a beautiful evening, but not even the breathtaking combination of champagne and apricot shades could bring a smile to his stone cold frown behind those black frame glasses. 

En has been on the road for six excruciating hours, hoping that by driving through the mojave desert, he would at least get some inspiration on his way to a meeting with this main rival company. Collaborations never scared the silverfox, in fact he has done it a couple of times with Armani, Valentino, Chanel, Versache, Gucci, Prada and many more. It was rather the thought of going there empty handed, with no concept sketches, no fresh ideas, nothing to bring to the table that frightened En Dwi so much. 

Nevertheless, much to his distaste, this just simply had to be done. For who is he if he can not do his only job? Who is he if he can not do the only thing that brought meaning into his life? The thought of burning out like a wax candle before it would be cast aside and forgotten, the thought of waking up one morning with his first thought being _"What now?"_ is something the tycoon feared even more than the humiliation awaiting him at "Planet Ego" headquarters. So he gripped the ebony leather wheel harder, adding speed with a determined look in his golden toned, hazel eyes.

 

A boisterous roar rippled through the silverfox's ears, an almost thunder like rumble came from the engine. Confusion spread across En Dwi's face when he saw a variation of silver and bronze sparks bolt from underneath the car hood, his vehicle was slowly losing it's speed. _Hah, this night couldn't get any worse_  the designer thought to him self, realizing it was said way too soon. Much to his misery, he just noticed that there is no signal on his phone. This was exactly what he needed in addition to his mid life crisis, get stuck in the middle of nowhere.

Sinking back into his luxurious seat, he took in everything surrounding him..."That is one big pile of shit" he cursed under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose with a pained, sarcastic smirk tugging at his rather fuller than average lips. _This is a ah...a disaster._ Like a crashing plane, his overly burdened mind was about to blow up.

It took him a good few minutes to collect his scattered thoughts. Looking at this catastrophic situation, he really could only do two things. Either get out of his car and walk towards the nearest Hotel, or sit here and wait for searching helicopters to appear. Though, he could wait here and hitch a lift, but let's be honest, nobody drives here and who the hell would pick up a 6'4 foot tall, faggot looking man? Famous designer or not, billionaire or not, En was way to familiar with how most people perceive him. Sadly even in modern society, the numbers of people who accept differences in others is flawed.

Waiting for someone to notice his absence would take over 24 hours at least, 48 hours at most, he couldn't wait for help in this heat without water. And only 30 minutes ago, his GPS did notify him of a local shelter. This meant, En Dwi Gast would have to walk 13 miles in the desert. "Mozel tov, you geezer" The billionaire quietly murmured to him self, getting out of the car with nothing but his phone, cream white leather wallet and a water bottle in his hand. He knew it was going to be a long night.

 

* * *

 

 _"You useless, ratty little child!" The grey haired king's fist clenched around long, curly ink black locks, hauling Loki by his hair towards the well furnished, dark office that only brought back painful memories when the boy thought of it._   _The youngest prince was desperately grasping at everything around him, like a defenceless animal being dragged into a deep, cold cave by it's ravenous predator. He no longer cared for the scratch marks his tender little nails left on the dark red, polished mahogany walls._

_"Please, I beg of you sir! Anything but this, please father! It was an accident!" He cried and begged, desperate for help, but Odin did not cave in, not one single bit. Only grew more frustrated by Loki's stridulous, pleading voice._

_It was not the first time since queen Frigga of Asgard, died in that fire, this particular horrendous little ritual has happened many times before. On multiple occasions his quite ill tempered father punished him for what seemed to be almost nothing. After all, Asgard's royal family could afford purchasing another plate, if one of them got shattered into pieces. Oh how the king hated his youngest son, adopted son._

_Loki Odinson, formerly known as Laufeyson, was seen as a parasite that Odin's beloved wife died saving from what happened to her. Their king, blind from his sorrow, blamed Loki for it all. He punished him for every single, tiny and irrelevant mistake, something he wouldn't even think twice about if his oldest daughter Hela, and middle son Thor, would have done. Even if repeatedly._

_The boy closed his teary, horror riddled eyes as his own father hit his back with a heavy, hazel brown leather belt. Loki could hear his own pale, delicate skin tearing in half with each agonizing blow. It was sadly, a rather familiar sound to him at this point, resembling the noise of a whip striking a rebellious stallion. "This is fine" the youngest prince thought to him self, repeating multiple times in his head as Odin hit him for the...he forgot how many times already, gave up counting, caring, hoping....all he knew was fear._

_And yet despite it all, he truly tried to be strong. Strong like his mother was when she pushed him out of the way before the flaming building collapsed right over her head. That was the last time he saw her, father would not even let him attend her funeral._

_Loki's siblings thought him arrogant and cold for daring to not show up on a day like this. Their Queen, their mother was going to be turned into ashes. Odin was a skilled liesmith, a true monarch, there couldn't be anything easier than twisting his adopted son's image in the eyes of his country, who's loyal subjects gladly believed those lies. After all, every tale is in need of a villain. For the youngest prince, was nothing but a useless freeloader in his own eyes, and he damn sure made everybody else see him as such too._

_Whimpering in pain, Loki was determined to not utter a sound, and so his father whipped that frail body, aligning the old leather belt with princes swollen flesh, over and over again. He did so with nothing but anger written all over his gruff face, watching drops of crimson blood flow down his own son's shaking body without care, nor even a hint of sympathy._

_The king of Asgard was not satisfied with Loki's punishment, twisting his features into a grimace, he let out a sigh of annoyance. And as soon as the cold belt buckle struck Loki against his tail bone, a horrid scream of a young, vulnerable voice echoed through the always half empty castle halls....after that, prince couldn't stop himself from screaming, it was too much, more than he could possibly take. Loki was almost convinced his cries for help were heard far, far across the white rose garden that Frigga adored so much._

_However, no one listened, no one cared. For who would believe a delusional 8 year old kid, over their beloved king's word? Who would go against his father, to save him? He was of no value to anybody, so he bit his tongue and took the rest of his beating quietly after that realization, until there was barely any flesh left upon his bones to batter._

 

"Loki! Wake up! Home sweet home, your highness."  A familiar, female voice awoke him, nearly startling him from the night terror that has haunted his dreams ever since he left Asgard, leaving the golden, hollow palace behind. Natalia, the Russian redhead, their lead guitarist was gently shaking his limp body back to reality. It looks like they have finally arrived at their destiantion after a crowded concert. Which as per usual, was a run down, rotten Motel who's tired employees wouldn't bother to care if they smoked pot and partied to loud music all night long.

Loki's eyelids felt heavy, yet with bloodshot eyeballs underneath he still forced them open, squinting at the bright, neon lights coming from that God awful Motel sign in front of them. He quickly gave Natasha a warm smile, to assure their mother hen that he was completely fine, fully aware of the fact that she pretty much knew this couldn't be any further away from the truth. It is almost freeky how this woman is able to know everything about you from the first glance, Loki often suspected her to be a mind reader.  

Speaking of, it was getting pathetic at this point. The now grown up prince, was 25 years of age, has made a successful life of his own as the lead singer in a band he created with his nearest, most trustworthy companions. They are his most favorite people on the entire planet, damaged troublemakers at heart just like yours truly. Hence their popular band name "Tricksta".

Without them, he quite frankly had no idea where he would be at this very moment. Perhaps laying dead in a ditch somewhere, no doubt his corpse would be rotting in a place where nobody could find him until someone eventually, even accidentally would trip over his devoured by maggots skeleton.

Alas, despite this new family that treated him better than anybody else has ever done before, he still felt empty as bloody fucking hell. _Deprived of emotional intimacy my ass_ he internally laughed at his therapist's words, _no fucking shit, mate._ Loki was stuck, didn't know where to go, how to evolve, what to do with the rest of his life anymore. His passion for music and partying, getting high and getting laid with everybody he fancied was slowly burning out. _What now?_ his mind screamed.

Looking at the bright, flaming sun setting down behind the sandy horison he blew out a cloud of smoke, ditching his cigarette on the balcony floor before heading inside.  _What now?_  

  

 


	2. Lost (part 2)

 

His worn out shoes from walking were no longer white, practically falling apart and were filled to the brim with sand. His legs are trembling mercilessly, knees aching, En Dwi Gast was more than certain they would soon betray him, as his exhausted body would hit the cracked asphalt road with a light thud. Nevertheless, despite this discomfort, there was something quite liberating about calmly walking in the middle of a desert at midnight.  

Perhaps it was the fact that the billionaire no longer had any time to overthink, obsess even, about recent events that unfortunately lead him to where he was at this very moment. He felt beyond tired though, looking at his golden wrist watch for the tenth time this hour, En Dwi exhaled, knowing he should have been there already. _Where uh, where the fuck is it?_ He wondered to himself...

...how ironic that when he brought his head up, a bright, neon pink Motel sign came into view.

"Gee....that's definetly something, that uh, will have to do." He breathlessly mumbled, looking at the dried out, cracked paint peeling off those dirty, grey walls. It was no five-star Hotel with wine red silk sheets, French crystal chandeliers and young, attractive looking night managers with a pearly smile. Greeted by an elderly, white-haired woman, who was as friendly as her life permitted her to be, he took the rusty, room 14 keys with a smile on his face, wishing her a good night. 

His travel suite was not much prettier than the rest of this run down building. Not that he much expected it to be. However, he did expect at least a shower that works, at least with freezing cold water, though he sure knew there would undoubtedly be no heaters. With only one light bulb hanging from that yellow-ish, dirty ceiling, En shook his head, plopping down onto the cum stained, single Queen bed, which was threatening to shatter under his weight. This place was straight up disappointing.

The walls were covered in horrible, floral, tempo teal wallpaper. The floor was decked in dark brown rug material and the bed had some badly knitted, cheap pastel pink sheets. En Dwi did not even risk opening that God awful, redwood dresser, knowing that those doors might fall off. Same goes for this poor, little nightstand to his right. He closed his tired, heavy eyelids, in an attempt at getting at least a few hours of sleep, as his body went limp and a deep slumber crept up on his weary mind.

_3 hours later_

En Dwi Gast has never seen a dream in his entire life, or he never once remembered one. Tonight was no exception. Complete and utter darkness, a tunnel with no light at the end was all the billionaire saw behind closed eyes. And yet, he could not complain, sleep was for resting. And rest he did get, partially. For suddenly, loud music started blaring through the building, discourteously waking everybody who stayed there. He wouldn't say he felt re-charged, yet thankfully, most of his exhaustion was over. 

His entire body started shuddering, there was a slight tremor in all of his previously relaxed limbs. It took the silverfox some time to realize that it was not only himself, but all furniture also seemed to be slightly shaking as the floor vibrated beat after beat. Looks like he's got some ballsy neighbors....loud, partying neighbors. _Exactly what I needed_ En rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. You can not ruin a ruined mood, albeit a few more hours of sleep would have been wonderful. Apparently, that was not going to happen.

"Might as well uh, get up" He decided, not bothering to put his shoes on before getting some fresh air.

Alas, this dry desert air was not as fresh as he had hoped it to be either. The only thing saving this night from being simply unbearable was that beautiful midnight sky. The whole horizon was painted in a dark indigo color, accompanied by an array of bright, almost crystal-like stars. All clouds were gone, he swore he could almost see the entire galaxy. He has seen plenty beautiful things, such as northern lights in Norway and comet showers on several tropical islands. This was not near breathtaking, yet something about it still sent chills down his spine. 

Something about that muffled melody in the background, complimented this view too. It was a nostalgic tune, whoever awoke him has a good taste in music. 'Rock you like a hurricane' by Scorpions, if he was not mistaken, what an amazing 80's classic. He slid down the wall behind him, knowing well that that porch was dirtier than his dog after a run in the park. _Aww, poor cuddly thing is completely alone, I already miss him_ En smiled to himself, Cosmo was a birthday gift from his dear brother, Taneleer. 

"No Nat, I do not wish to talk about it. It was but a bad dream, I assure you." A dark, almost melodic, velvety male voice echoed from afar. It belonged to a rather tall, dark silhouette that the designer could not see under the light of those cheap wall lamps.

"Hey, if you're not ready, I am not going to push you. But you know you have to at least talk to your therapist." It was followed by a female voice, dark as well, slightly raspy, in a satisfying way.

"I will, I promise. Now let go of my balls sweetheart, I need to be alone for a bit." 

"If you say so."

En Dwi felt a little guilty for eavesdropping, even if accidentally. Unsurprisingly he got caught, as that tall stranger turned his head in the designer's direction, the silverfox kept looking at him with an apologetic expression on his face. The stranger did not blame him, even walked into the light and gave En a short nod as he too slid down that same wall. They sat there in silence,12 feet apart, as if they didn't acknowledge each other's presence. Though, it was immensely far away from the truth. 

 _Golly, what a pretty thing!_ It hit En Dwi like a high-speed train once that boy revealed himself. He couldn't help it, he was stealing glances at the younger male almost shamelessly. _Absolutely stunning_  En thought in his head, marveling at him with no fright of being caught once again. 

A pale, porcelain complexion, it looked so milky and smooth even under shitty lighting. Curly, bouncy locks, swooped back behind those perfectly proportional ears, hair so long it cascaded down those wide, elegant shoulders. That mane was a shade so dark En couldn't even describe it....charcoal? Ebony? Raven? Doesn't even have a brown or dark blue hue to those strands. 

Then there was his handsome face, he had a bone structure like no other. Those high, hollowing cheekbones were insane, gave him an unique, editorial look. Not that En was not used to things like that, with designing clothes for near perfect and unique models, you get used to beauty. But **him** , _he has a uh.. a rugged vibe about him_. Then this long roman nose that made the stranger seem more intelligent than most, which was balancing out a quite large forehead that brilliantly suited him, whereas on other people it would look slightly disturbing. Under it, were delicate, freckly, alluringly greyish nude lips. Shaped like a permanent tiny pout, glancing under the starlight when he licked them.

Those big and ungroomed, dark brows suited him well too, which were accompanied by a set of marvelously long, thick, equally dark eyelashes. He looked like a gorgeous, dead porcelain doll. And those eyes, _those damn eyes_  En thought in his head, taking a little bit longer to carefully study them. Mostly blue. Ocean blue orbs, with a chameleon-like ability to change their color depending on everything around him, environment, clothing.

The cherry on top was that he was not lacking a sense for fashion either. Dressed in a worn out, designer, jet-black leather jacket with a snow white tank top underneath, the tycoon knew he liked him for a reason. It was from one of his oldest collections in the 70s, almost every musician and rebel wore them back then. Black skinny jeans were hanging dangerously, deliciously low on those narrow hips, hugging those toned legs like a rubber glove. Not to mention that this beautiful stranger was impressively fit. Not bulky like a bodybuilder, not skinny like your average male runway model. More athletic, like an Olympic swimmer, like a Greek God.    

En Dwi Gast was blinded by this boy's ravishing looks, _Uh hah, yeah, he could be a good distraction._

 

* * *

 

 

"Alright boys, I already paired everybody up. Erik and Bucky take number 11, go to your room, unpack, change and later we meet up in Loki's room. It's number 13, right?" The red-headed woman asked their lead vocalist, too worn out to double-check it herself, she was looking tiredly at Loki, waiting for an answer. Her eyes were slightly glossy, tears of exhaustion staining her brown lashes from reading directions to their driver for multiple, excruciatingly long hours. Loki himself was equally tired, so was their whole team. It has been a rather long ride and they had to get the much needed and deserved rest. 

"Indeed." He nodded, sloppily fiddling, flipping the keys between his long fingers. Alas, he knew very well they were not going to rest until a few more hours. There is a reason to their alliance, what an odd mix of people they are. All bonded by their 'outcast' lifestyle and demons that haunted them, rarely letting them close their eyes at night.

A prince from an European island with quite the collection of mental illnesses and a big gaping hole in his soul, yours truly, Loki Odinson. Then a Russian, professional guitarist who was never taken seriously no matter where she went, treated like garbage by most for being different, Natalia Romanova.

Also a blind dude who so tragically lost his father and his vision at a remarkably young age, bassist Matthew Murdock. Not to mention your average American junkie, who not so averagely was blessed with a gift of playing the piano like a God, James Buchanan Barnes. And last but not least Erik Stevens, or known as N'Jadaka in his homeland. He is their drummer who takes his anger and abandonment issues out on those drums instead of people. Every single member has a dark past, only a heavy dose of cannabis, plus some good music, will help them relax. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are an author's bread and water *wink wink*


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